


Till Blue Skies Drive Dark Clouds Away

by bellacatbee



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Home Front, Alternate Universe - World War II, Bombing, First Kiss, M/M, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 11:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3379070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellacatbee/pseuds/bellacatbee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the middle of the 2nd World War. Both Heaven and Hell have forbidden their counterparts on Earth from involving themselves, but Aziraphale finds the order hard to follow. </p><p>Crowley, fearful that Aziraphale will be called away and replaced by someone else, invites him out to a dance to distract him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Till Blue Skies Drive Dark Clouds Away

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this rather a long time ago for a Good Omens mini bang that never happened. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Thank you to my two excellent Beta-readers who took the time to whip this in to shape.

A dance was supposed to be fun.

There was liquor flowing freely, girls with scarlet lips wearing their best stockings, attractive men in uniform and jazz music. People were dancing energetically, wide bright smiles on their faces. _This is fun _, they said, and they tried to mean it.__

__It was only on closer inspection that something felt wrong. There was an air of enforced enjoyment about it all. Everyone there knew tomorrow could be their last day and so they threw themselves into the dance because they didn’t want to die sad and they didn’t want to die lonely._ _

__Couples paired off all across the room. They burnt brightly before they burnt off. Some of them would be snuffed out in a sudden, painful death, but even in death they would have this final memory of a dance, of a pretty girl._ _

__War could be here, but she is somewhere in France instead, cavorting with the soldiers on the front line._ _

__Aziraphale knew that was where most of the young men in this room would be heading tomorrow morning. They’d catch a train down to Dover and go on by ship. He looked at them, wondered which were marked for death. They were all so young, so full of life. He didn’t want to know who wouldn’t come back._ _

___We could have stopped this, _he thought to himself.__ _ _

____He had raised the topic with his superiors. A few whispered words in the right ear would have stopped this. He had already bought himself a ticket to Germany when he was informed politely, but firmly, that he wasn’t to become involved. This was something they had been planning._ _ _ _

____Aziraphale had looked ahead, he had seen what was coming. He had seen an evil that frightened him more than anything Crowley had ever told him about Hell._ _ _ _

____“A penny for your thoughts, Angel?”_ _ _ _

____Crowley appeared at his side, holding out a glass of something red like blood and for a moment Aziraphale almost recoiled before remembering himself. The glass was filled with red wine. It was what he’d asked Crowley to order for him._ _ _ _

____Crowley had seen the future too, but they both had their orders._ _ _ _

____“I don’t know why you wanted us to come here.” Aziraphale said stiffly, taking the glass from Crowley, ignoring the heat of his skin as their fingers brushed._ _ _ _

____“ _Support_ our troops and all that...” Crowley hissed and Aziraphale wondered if Crowley thought he was being funny. _ _ _ _

____“I think we’d be supporting them much better if we could stop them being shot at.” he said, glaring at the glass of wine as if it was somehow responsible._ _ _ _

____Aziraphale knew that everything was part of the infallible Plan, that it was all written and would all come to pass. However he found himself wishing there was a way to erase and rewrite this part of the plan. It was as close to blasphemous as Aziraphale would let himself get. He felt a little tingle at the back of his neck even as he thought about it, reminding him that he was not supposed to question The Plan._ _ _ _

____Aziraphale wasn’t supposed to have doubts. He was supposed to observe. He’d just never been very good at not getting involved. When he’d given poor Adam and Eve his flaming sword he’d entangled himself with humanity. Ever since then he’d had a problem holding himself back._ _ _ _

____This time he had firm instructions. There was nothing he could do without getting himself recalled and someone else sent down in his place. Someone else who wouldn’t have the Agreement, someone else who would sell his books, someone else who wouldn’t understand the importance of dinner at the Ritz, and wouldn’t know how to do all the little, daily, _needed _acts of kindness that Aziraphale did because the Angel sent in his place would be looking at the bigger picture.___ _ _ _

______He raised his glass to his lips, took a sip and sighed internally. He didn’t know why he’d expected to get a good vintage in one of Crowley’s cheap basement clubs._ _ _ _ _ _

______He cast a sideways glance at his companion and noticed that Crowley was drinking what appeared to be whiskey. It was probably black-market, most likely cost an arm and a leg and no doubt Crowley hadn’t paid for it. Crowley never paid for anything._ _ _ _ _ _

______Aziraphale waved his hand over his glass, muttering a blessing under his breath and was rewarded by a rich, full-bodied French red._ _ _ _ _ _

______Next to him Crowley shivered._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I do wish you wouldn’t do that, Angel,” he murmured._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Turning water into wine is a very mundane miracle,” Aziraphale replied, “I doubt that turning wine into better wine even counts as one.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Crowley shuddered again. “You could have told me what you were going to do. It makes my skin itch.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’m sorry, my Dear,” Aziraphale found himself murmuring._ _ _ _ _ _

______He really should have remembered Crowley and his aversion. Even if Aziraphale was upset with Heaven and Hell and The Plan, none of that was Crowley’s fault. He was simply an observer like Aziraphale, although one with a lot more free reign._ _ _ _ _ _

______When bad things happened people found it all too easy to believe in evil and Crowley was rewarded, even if he wasn’t responsible. Aziraphale hardly ever attempted something good on a grand scale. When he did it was treated as a novelty and he found himself having to explain and grovel to his superiors._ _ _ _ _ _

______In so many ways Crowley had the easier job of the two of them. Humans seemed inclined towards thinking the worst of themselves and everyone around them. His side should even be happy about what was coming. Death, hatred, it was what they all thrived upon but Aziraphale knew that Crowley dreaded it as much as he did. Crowley had a soft spot for people. It was certainly a disadvantage for a demon._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Why don’t you go and dance?” He suggested._ _ _ _ _ _

______Aziraphale was created to be one of life’s eternal wallflowers. Crowley was flashy and interesting. He’d look good out there, dancing with all those bright young things. Aziraphale went out of his way to remain inconspicuous while Crowley practically invited attention. He had the shallow attractiveness so many Demons cultivated, and Aziraphale didn’t mind admitting privately to himself that he would have enjoyed watching Crowley dance. It would have been an aesthetically pleasing distraction._ _ _ _ _ _

______Crowley curled his top lip back, showing a hint of fang, then shook his head._ _ _ _ _ _

______“No, they all think I’m Spanish anyway,” he said, ignoring the way two rather pretty young women giggled and flashed a hint of stockinged thigh at him from beside the bar._ _ _ _ _ _

______He looked down at his fingers holding the glass in his hand, the tanned skin that marked him as different and Aziraphale almost laughed, but then remembered himself. It wasn’t a laughing matter. That was what war did. Suddenly anyone with a hint of the enemy powers about them was suspect. People with German last names were attacked in the street, Italian restaurants were vandalised, outright lies were published as propaganda. Crowley’s exotic dark looks that Aziraphale had always been slightly jealous of were now a liability._ _ _ _ _ _

______For the first time in a very long time it was Aziraphale, his milksop skin and his slightly chubby frame, clothed in a knitted jumper, that could almost be described as in vogue. He was painfully English in a way that would never seem threatening to anyone where as tall, brooding and devilishly handsome Crowley now embodied what was so very dangerous about the continent._ _ _ _ _ _

______It was horrible how every little Xenophobic prejudice had been given ample soil to root in._ _ _ _ _ _

______Even as Aziraphale thought it, he noticed two of the soldiers crossing the dance floor to stand between the girls who had flirted with Crowley and Crowley himself, making themselves human shields for their virtue. If anyone was going to have these girls, the set of their shoulders made clear, it was going to be good old British boys and not any of those strange foreign sorts._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Stupid,” Crowley muttered._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’m sorry, dear boy,” Aziraphale said, patting him on the shoulder._ _ _ _ _ _

______Crowley shrugged his hand off._ _ _ _ _ _

______Aziraphale knew that neither of them were sexual beings, unless they made the effort, but humans didn’t know that. Crowley’s current body certainly had more than an air of roguishness about him, although Crowley probably would have reminded Aziraphale that rogue was a word that should be consigned to the eighteenth century. Aziraphale knew it wasn’t nice to partly blame Crowley for his predicament, but, if he hadn’t insisted on being so handsome, hadn’t requested a body that practically suggested temptation, then he wouldn’t be having such a hard time now._ _ _ _ _ _

______No one saw Aziraphale as even the slightest bit tempting. He never had any of the sort of trouble Crowley seemed to attract. He wouldn’t have known what to do if he had._ _ _ _ _ _

______He assumed demons had some sort of training in that area, sins of the flesh and all of that, whereas he’d received the angelic version of such education which advised him that a nice cup of tea and a good book was infinitely better than any role in the hay would ever be. Not that it really matter because Aziraphale wouldn’t have made the effort even if someone had been interested. Sex seemed a very messy process, both physically and emotionally. It was simply something he had been speculating about since Crowley and the seventh century._ _ _ _ _ _

______He was certain he still had Crowley to blame for the Restoration._ _ _ _ _ _

______All that time spent sowing the idea that kings weren’t necessarily a good thing or divine and then, suddenly, everyone was crowning a new one, there were more brothels around than before, and also a lot more actresses._ _ _ _ _ _

______Admittedly, banning Christmas had been a little too much, even Aziraphale agreed with that, but he still felt that getting rid of the divine right of kings had been a sound idea. It worried him when any one person said their actions were right because they had the backing of God. They only ever seemed to say something like that when they wanted to start chopping heads off or burning people at stakes._ _ _ _ _ _

______He looked down at his glass of wine, wondering how much he’d drunk if he was beginning to reminisce about the sixteenth century. Rather a lot as it turned out, the glass was almost empty. He’d been sipping at it surreptitiously as he thought._ _ _ _ _ _

______There had been times in the previous centuries when he’d thought the depravity of humanity couldn’t possibly get worse. There had been wars, awful ones, massacres and forced conversions at the point of a sword. There had been the Spanish Inquisition. There had been Witch finders. There had been Elizabethan torture instruments. Aziraphale still blushed when he remembered ending up the wrong side of those. Trying to explain why he needed a new vessel had been incredibly embarrassing. He had seen all those things come and go; had believed them to be the worst that could possibly be offered and then he’d realised that that was never the case._ _ _ _ _ _

______Each advancement brought forth its own horror._ _ _ _ _ _

______They’d called the previous war the Great War. The War to end all Wars. The World War._ _ _ _ _ _

______It hadn’t ended anything. It had simply created the reasons for this war. All that bitterness had festered until it turned to bloodshed._ _ _ _ _ _

______It would be worse this time. A horrible atrocity was happening even now and nothing he could do about it. Innocent people being marched to their deaths all over Europe because they weren’t the right sort of people._ _ _ _ _ _

______The plans, the camps, the “solutions”. All of that had been perfected through previous wars._ _ _ _ _ _

______Aziraphale looked glumly down at the glass in his hand. He’d finished the whole thing.He reached out, touching the arm of one of the soldiers standing nearby._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I wonder if you’d be so kind as to take my glass back to the bar?” He asked, passing his glass over to the soldier. Along with the glass he passed on hope and courage. He passed on luck too and the knowledge of some important coordinates that the man wouldn’t understand until he reached the front line._ _ _ _ _ _

______The soldier blinked at him in surprise and wordlessly walked away. Aziraphale felt only the slightest bit better about things._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You shouldn’t have done that,” Crowley said irritably. “We’re not supposed to get involved.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’m not involved,” Aziraphale said, the lie burning his tongue._ _ _ _ _ _

______He turned to look at Crowley, wondering again why the demon had insisted they come here for their evening together. This wasn’t like their normal places. It wasn’t the Ritz for one. It was smoky, claustrophobic and filled with slightly desperate people._ _ _ _ _ _

______Aziraphale blanched._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Are you here for work?” He asked, horrified. “Did you bring me along while you were working?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______He didn’t need Crowley making things worse on Hell’s orders. It was all bad enough already. Aziraphale knew that Crowley had a job to do but at the same time those in attendance were already skirting pain and misery._ _ _ _ _ _

______Crowley looked at him, startled._ _ _ _ _ _

______“No,” he said, “I told you, I’m ssssupporting our troopsss”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Aziraphale suddenly felt angry. He could do more, he should do more, but he stopped himself because he was worried about being recalled to Heaven and leaving Crowley with whoever took his place. He was holding himself back because of this silly Agreement the two of them had, because he counted Crowley as a friend, because he was fond of him, and then the demon took him along on the job and then made fun of him._ _ _ _ _ _

______Crowley was looking more snake-like with every passing moment, his eyes narrowing, his tongue flickering out as he spoke, hissing his words. It made Aziraphale feel very stupid indeed. He thought he’d got over his insecurities about the nature of their agreement somewhere back in the seventeenth century, thought that he could trust Crowley, but looking at him now Aziraphale wondered how he could ever have expected to be friends with a demon._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I want to go home now,” he said primly, taking a step back from Crowley._ _ _ _ _ _

______“No, Angel, don’t go,” Crowley said, reaching forward to grab his arm, but Aziraphale shook him off._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I am going to collect my coat and I am going home,” He said with as much decorum as he could muster._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Angel!” Crowley followed him across the dance floor and to the coat check._ _ _ _ _ _

______Aziraphale ignored him, ignored the heads turning to look at them, ignored the whispers. Crowley would always insist on calling attention to his nature as if he didn’t realise what it made people think. Now Aziraphale knew it was a form of mocking him. Crowley was subtly reminding him of how he had forgotten himself, let fond feelings blind him to the fact that Crowley was a demon._ _ _ _ _ _

______Crowley probably didn’t even mind what was happening. After all, Aziraphale couldn’t see any reason why a servant of Hell would be unhappy with another war. War bought out the worst in people, this war would bring out the very worst. It would be another tick in the tally-sheet of the infallible Plan, one which was in Hell’s favour._ _ _ _ _ _

______Crowley had probably come here tonight to put the suggestion of shooting some civilians into someone’s head or something equally disgusting. No wonder he was upset with Aziraphale for trying to tip the scales a little in Heaven’s favour._ _ _ _ _ _

______He put on his coat, a comfortable tweed that he’d bought a long time ago in Selfridges sales before the war had started, and ignored Crowley’s attempts to talk to him._ _ _ _ _ _

______He made his way up the stairs of the club, out into the night air, which suddenly seemed both startlingly cold and very refreshing._ _ _ _ _ _

______Aziraphale took a deep breath and shut the door on both Crowley and his explanations._ _ _ _ _ _

______Then the whole world exploded around him._ _ _ _ _ _

______**_ _ _ _ _ _

______The blast threw Crowley down the stairs in a cloud of brick dust and mortar.He hit the wall at the bottom, crumpling in on himself. The force would have killed a man. It didn’t kill Crowley._ _ _ _ _ _

______He groaned, pushing himself up and waved away someone trying to helping him to his feet._ _ _ _ _ _

______People were screaming, people were crying._ _ _ _ _ _

______Crowley felt the world plummet away from him, faster than it had when he’d been blown down the stairs. Aziraphale – that stupid, insufferable, wrong-headed angel – had been out on the street._ _ _ _ _ _

______Crowley staggered back towards the stairs._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You need to lie down.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’m a nurse, I don’t think….”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Was it a bomb?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Crowley could hear their voices but they sounded far off. His ear drums had burst, he realised with a little bit of regret because they would hurt later, but now he felt like he was drunk. The world was woozy._ _ _ _ _ _

______He made his way up the stairs, pleased to see that they had withstood the blast and you could always trust good old stone-masonry which was why he’d picked this club in the first place. It was safe, practically as good as a bomb shelter._ _ _ _ _ _

______The door at the top of the stairs was hanging off its hinges and Crowley pushed it aside, not surprised when it fell on the floor._ _ _ _ _ _

______What was left of the street was deserted. There wasn’t very much left of the street._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Angel?” He called. “Angel?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______The street was rubble. Broken glass from the buildings twinkled on the cobble stones, reflecting the stars above them. Fire licked up and down between what had once been discernible and was now merely detritus, glowing cosily as it crackled. Crowley knew about fire. He had never found it comforting. It reminded him of being downstairs and he tried to stay as far away from there as possible._ _ _ _ _ _

______The street was silent._ _ _ _ _ _

______It wouldn’t remain that way. There would be a fire crew, rescuers for the poor souls who survived and for the bodies of the dead. He had very little time really, but even as Crowley thought that, time seemed to slow. No one came up the stairs behind him from the club._ _ _ _ _ _

______He moved cautiously into the street, trying to make sense of what could be a body among the debris._ _ _ _ _ _

______The Angel would be back, it might take him a while and he would have to have a new vessel, but he would be back. Crowley didn’t have to worry about him, didn’t have to search for him. After all, it wasn’t as if Crowley was terribly attached to Aziraphale’s current form. The Angel had had more attractive vessels in the past. This was simply the one he’d had the longest and Crowley had grown used to it. He repressed a shudder as he thought of it crushed or blow to pieces._ _ _ _ _ _

______It was ridiculous. Aziraphale was an Angel. He was more than the vessel he inhabited, more powerful than he seemed, but Crowley found himself forgetting that sometimes and treating Aziraphale as if he really was a portly middle-aged man with a fondness for knitted jumpers. He found himself worrying. He never used to worry about Aziraphale._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Aziraphale?” he shouted._ _ _ _ _ _

______He sank down on to his knees, starting to shift through the nearest pile of rubble. Aziraphale might still be alive under there, although a mortal would be dead._ _ _ _ _ _

______He hunted through, looking for any sign of Aziraphale’s hideous knitted vest._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Dear, what are you doing?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Looking for you, you stupid Angel,” Crowley muttered, throwing bricks aside._ _ _ _ _ _

______That was the last thing he needed, to hear Aziraphale’s disembodied voice talking to him. He dug down deeper until he found the street, but no body and groaned._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Crowley,” Aziraphale’s voice floated over to him, sounding amused by his attempts._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I am trying to find you,” Crowley nearly growled. He did not need to be mocked by the very person he was trying to help._ _ _ _ _ _

______He sighed angrily, sat back on his heels and looked back over his shoulder. He suddenly felt very foolish._ _ _ _ _ _

______Aziraphale was standing in the street. His face was blackened with soot, his hair in disarray, his glasses broken and smashed on his nose. There was glass cutting into his cheeks, little spots here and there of blood, but he was whole._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I thought you were buried under there,” Crowley said stupidly, pointing at the nearest pile of rubble._ _ _ _ _ _

______It was obvious that Aziraphale hadn’t been but he couldn’t completely let go of the fear that Aziraphale was trapped somewhere still, even as Aziraphale stood there in front of him._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I ducked into the alley,”” Aziraphale said, slightly stiffly. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, I am an Angel.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Well, yes…” Crowley said, pushing himself up and dusting off his knees._ _ _ _ _ _

______He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to say that he had known Aziraphale, especially in the early years when they first walked on earth, to die in sudden and horrific ways and that dying in a bomb blast would hardly be the most ignominious of his deaths._ _ _ _ _ _

______For the sheer irony, Crowley still found the time Aziraphale had been put to death as a heretic to be the most embarrassing of his deaths. Aziraphale had looked so surprised when they’d come to arrest him for translating the bible into English._ _ _ _ _ _

______Knowing how Aziraphale had managed to completely disregard personal safety at that time and others it wouldn’t have surprised Crowley at all if Aziraphale had been caught up in the blast. He forgot to lock his front door, got lost in books and failed to heed air raid sirens on a normal day._ _ _ _ _ _

______The fact that he had has the presence of mind to save himself when caught up in the epicenter of an attack only served to remind Crowley that he should remember that, for all the fumbling and horrible jumpers, Aziraphale was still a supernatural being._ _ _ _ _ _

______Crowley had just forgotten it when he’d seen the empty, destroyed street where the Angel would have been standing only seconds before._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I wasn’t working,” he said finally, feeling the silence between them had gone on long enough. “I would never take you to work, Angel. It would be against the Arrangement.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______He wouldn’t want to upset Aziraphale either. Tease him, yes, like that horrible glass of wine that he’d given the Angel in the club, but he’d never do more than simply ruffle his feathers._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yes, I realised that as the bomb was dropped,” Aziraphale said, smiling just slightly. “And I don’t believe you knew what was going to happen here tonight either, not after seeing you digging around for me.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I don’t like it,” Crowley said stiffly, “I know I’m a demon, but I don’t think it’s right.”_ _ _ _ _ _

________“The bombs?”  
“The War.”  
Aziraphale nodded, stepping across the broken bits of doorframe and shop front. Crowley put out an arm to steady him, holding on to Aziraphale’s shoulders, then dragged him closer._ _ _ _

______“I really wouldn’t want them to send another Angel down,” he said, reaching up to touch Aziraphale’s cheek, frowning as he began to pick out the little shards of glass. “You’re the only one I can stand.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I would rather they didn’t send another Demon,” Aziraphale murmured, standing still and allowing himself to be taken care of._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I know you want to do something, I know you want to help…” Crowley found himself straining to be understood._ _ _ _ _ _

______This would pass, he wanted to say. It would all end. It would be horrible, it would be wrong, but it would pass. It wasn’t worth losing Aziraphale over, but the words caught in his throat. He liked humanity. He didn’t like it so much when it tried to destroy itself. There had been wars before, but this was much worse. He understood why Aziraphale wanted to help, but he was selfish and wanted to keep the Angel to which he’d grown accustomed. No other Angel would do._ _ _ _ _ _

______Aziraphale seemed to understand because he smiled at him, a fond smile that made Crowley feel warm in places he wasn’t certain he had._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You never did have a dance,” Aziraphale said and Crowley scoffed softly._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I told you, I didn’t want to dance,” he said, finding Aziraphale’s hands to hold in his own._ _ _ _ _ _

______Just to make sure that he stayed standing, Crowley told himself. Aziraphale could still collapse from shock although that possibility seemed suddenly far off._ _ _ _ _ _

______Everything seemed far off again. The rest of the world continued to stay away, as if aware that something was happening on the street and it didn’t need the interruption of real life, its noise and distractions._ _ _ _ _ _

______“No dancing? Not with me?” Aziraphale asked, almost coquettish and Crowley laughed, tugging him closer until there was almost no space between them._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Queer thing,” he said fondly, bending his head just slightly as Aziraphale rose on his tiptoes._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yes, my dear,” Aziraphale agreed as their lips met in a kiss that had been centuries in the making._ _ _ _ _ _

______The Earth didn’t move. Neither Heaven or Hell was aware of what was happening so the clouds didn’t burst and the seas didn’t boil. Mostly everything stayed the same. The only change was to Aziraphale and Crowley themselves._ _ _ _ _ _

______That night an Angel and a Demon danced together in the rubble of a broken street, and, the next time the world was threatened, they didn’t simply follow orders._ _ _ _ _ _

______They took a stand._ _ _ _ _ _

______As it was, neither of them knew that was coming. They simply knew they didn’t want to lose each other or the world, so they held each other close and danced to the strains of a fire engine’s siren and the chatter of people’s voices and the soft jazz from below._ _ _ _ _ _

______The band had continued playing, of course. It was the sort of thing bands always do._ _ _ _ _ _


End file.
